


Dancing Around a Fine Line

by Zahir_Zurena



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Fun, Sexual Tension, Vis a Vis: El oasis, Zurena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zahir_Zurena/pseuds/Zahir_Zurena
Summary: Macarena loves to dance. Anywhere, anytime. Zulema...well, she doesn't consider herself a fan.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	Dancing Around a Fine Line

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first and only fanfic. I had this idea stuck in my head for a while and a friend encouraged me to write and post it. So thank you for that. Comments are welcome! Hope you enjoy!

Zulema can feel the raging headache beginning to form in her temples the second she steps out of her car. Technically it really isn’t her car, it’s the poor librarian’s who got caught in the middle of her and Macarena’s getaway last week, but she doesn’t dwell on that. It’s too hot and she’s annoyed. She’s glad to finally be back from running errands...she’s always hated the crowds and the uncontrollable children. Quickly grabbing the grocery bags from the trunk, she makes her way up to the caravan door. It was left slightly open. Zulema pauses and frowns. She hadn’t seen Macarena outside, she double checks by looking around, calling out her name once, only now realizing just how quiet it is. She places the bags by the sketchy front steps and creeps up step by step, her hand reaching to the back of her black cargo pants to feel the gun hidden under her shirt. She opens the door slowly and freezes. There, in the center of the caravan, is Maca. She has a pair of headphones on and Zulema can almost hear the song if she focuses hard enough. She watches as the blonde bops around in cotton shorts and a white tank top, eyes closed, nodding her head to the beat and throwing her arms around. Zulema stands and watches and she hates herself for it. She notes the way Maca’s hair is tied up in a messy bun, she only ever does it when the weather is this hot. With a little smile on her lips Macarena looks carefree and Zulema feels something close to discomfort at watching her like this. Or maybe she’s uncomfortable with how she can’t get herself to look away. Suddenly, Maca’s eyes open and she jumps back with a shout. “Joder, Zulema! Why are you just standing there? You scared me.” Macarena takes the headphones off, and Zulema catches the lyrics “to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die”. She watches as Maca lets her hair down and the idea of stepping closer to brush a strand away briefly crosses her mind. She shakes it off. “Why are you dancing to The Smiths when you should be on lookout?” she turns on her heel and walks out the door, remembering she left her groceries out in the Spanish heat. She hears Macarena sigh in frustration, footsteps following her to the door, “If you haven’t noticed, nobody ever passes by here. We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere, Zulema, and it’s too hot to sit on the roof and stare at nothing all day.” She looks up to find Maca in the doorway, hands on her hips watching Zulema struggle with the bags. “Vale, you don’t want to stare at nothing all day? Help with the bags.” She shoves a few bags in Maca’s direction, who takes them into what they like to call their “kitchen”. Closing the door behind her, Zulema places the rest of the bags on the table and watches as Macarena starts putting the items away. “You can’t decide to not do your job so you can dance around the living room. That isn’t what we agreed on.” Zulema kicks off her boots and is about to grab a glass of water when she hears a loud smack against the counter. She looks over at Maca with her eyebrows raised, waiting for whatever she has to say. “Why can’t you just relax with the rules? For someone who sold their boyfriend out to break out of prison, you seem to be running this place like one.” Zulema snaps and pushes Maca against the nearest wall. “Cállate! We have rules for a reason. Your face is plastered all over Spain. You’re a fugitive, Rubita, did you forget?” She watches as a scowl begins to form on Macarena’s face before adding, “we might not have seen anybody in the past year, but that can change tomorrow. Stop dancing while you’re on watch.” She shoves Maca away as soon as she can. She tells herself it’s because she was angry….but being that close to her brought back the weird feeling she’s been ignoring since the prison riot. So, Zulema does what she does best. Walks out the door. 

__________________________________

It’s been weeks since the incident in the kitchen. Macarena had offered Zulema the bed that night, her way of apologizing for bringing up Hanbal. Zulema flung herself onto the mattress, her way of accepting. Now, Zulema is sitting at the bar of a small nightclub miles away from the caravan and Macarena is sitting next to her. “I can’t believe we managed to get away. Did you see the way I shot that guy? I didn’t even flinch.” Macarena is grinning at Zulema while Zulema surveys their surroundings. She takes a sip of her whiskey before looking back at the blonde. “You hit him in the thigh, Rubia. It doesn’t really count.” She feels a smack on her shoulder and the two share a smile. “Yeah, but I didn’t flinch.” Macarena wiggles her eyebrows amusingly before going back to drinking her cocktail when she hears a mumbled “Aye, what have I been teaching you.” She looks back at Zulema and realizes the woman didn’t notice she’d been heard. The raven haired woman is staring into her glass, swirling the liquid around, her shoulders hunched over. She thinks about how the two of them just pulled off an 8 million euro heist, they should be celebrating! “Let’s dance!” Macarena is already out of her chair when Zulema feels a grip on her elbow. “I don’t do that, it’s stupid.” Zulema is pulling her arm away and see’s the way Macarena’s grin falters for a moment. “Come on, Zule, por favor. Don’t be boring. We should be celebrating! That’s the whole point we came here.” Macarena is watching the way Zulema looks at the dance floor, noticing how she tears pieces off of the napkin in front of her. “No, we are here because you wanted to look pretty and wear a nice dress to have drinks. I would much rather be at home.” They both realize the use of “home” that slipped out of Zulema’s mouth but decided not to comment, for both their sakes. “Miss Zahir, are you saying you would’ve preferred us to have drinks together back at the caravan, with me looking pretty in this nice dress?” She doesn’t know why she’s said it, or why her voice sounded as flirty as it did, but she swore she saw a blush creep onto Zulema’s cheeks. Zulema turns back to her drink and looks ahead at the wall in front of her. “Okay, well...I’m going to go dance.” Macarena is gone before Zulema has the chance to acknowledge the statement. She watches the blonde make her way to the crowd, already falling into the rhythm of the music. She can’t look away. She knows Maca is attractive, she’s not blind. She just can’t get herself to accept the fact that she finds Macarena attractive. She finishes her whiskey and raises an arm to catch the bartender's attention. After she’s had a refill her mind wanders. She thinks back to the day she was released from prison. How she had stood there waiting for the bus, her heart sinking at the realization that she truly had nobody. She thinks about Maca showing up in that stupid car, in that stupid outfit, with that stupid smirk. She tries to not think about the blonde, but she can’t stop. This is why she doesn’t drink. Zulema closes her eyes and tries to get all the small moments with Macarena out of her head, but it makes it worse. She thinks about the first time they went swimming in the small lake in front of their caravan. Well, more like Zulema had shoved Maca into the water and Maca pulled her in with her. How Maca had come home from the grocery store and left a bar of her favorite chocolate on the table, out in the open, as a “not an act of kindness” act of kindness. Or the one night she drove back from town in time to see Macarena running through the rain to grab Zulema’s laundry off the clothing line. When asked why she did it, a drenched Macarena replied that she thought the clothes were hers. They both knew she was lying. “Puta Rubia,” Zulema groans and runs a hand through her hair. She looks up to see a man walking up to a dancing Macarena and she sits up in her chair. Now on high alert, Zulema tries to figure out if the man is a threat. She watches as Macarena speaks to him, bares her teeth, and shoves him back slightly. Oh. Wait, she’s flirting, Zulema realizes. She watches as Macarena giggles and smiles, briefly touching the man’s arm every now and then. A weird feeling stirs in her chest and she tries to ignore it. Macarena could do whatever she wants, she’s a grown woman, she thinks. She looks on as the two start dancing together and it makes her chest tighten. She drags her eyes away and starts chatting with the bartender.

__________________________________

Maca feels the man's hands on her hips as he pulls her closer against him. She hasn’t danced with anybody else in ages and she revels in the touch of this stranger. She hadn’t asked for his name because she didn’t care enough to know. She knows that once her and Zulema leave tonight, she most likely wouldn’t be coming back. Maca keeps glancing at the bar, noticing the way Zulema is laughing with the bartender. It makes her furrow her brows. The last time she’d seen Zulema laugh like that was with Saray in the Cruz del Sur cafeteria. It angers her a little bit. She’d come to the conclusion months ago that she might have feelings for the Egyptian. She can’t get herself to definitively decide what those feelings are, but she acknowledges that they’re there. And right now, if she were fully honest, she’d might say that she was a bit jealous. A bit jealous at how some stranger could get that scorpion of a woman to throw her head back with laughter. She decides to turn her attention elsewhere. She looks into the crowd of moving bodies and presses herself further against the stranger. His hands trace her curves as she reaches behind her to place a hand on his neck. She thinks it’s nice to feel desired by someone, to have their undivided attention. She smiles as he starts to place kisses on her neck. “Oye, is he bothering you?” Maca’s eyes snap open at the voice she knows so well. “Does it look like he’s bothering me, Zulema?” Macarena steps out of the man’s grip and watches as his face contorts into an expression of pure confusion. She watches Zulema eye the man before the woman replies, “yes, it looks like he is.” The man steps into Zulema’s space, towering over her. “Why don’t you leave us alone? You’re the only one bothering us.” Macarena sees the glint of danger in Zulema’s eyes and steps in between them. She turns to the man, “Thank you for dancing with me. I think it’s better if you go.” She watches as he continues to stare down the raven haired woman. “Ahora.” Macarena gives him a little push and watches as he shakes his head and wanders off. Before she can turn around to scold Zulema, she feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. Her breath catches as she feels herself pulled against Zulema’s body. She feels Zulema sway to the music, while she stands frozen in place. “Come on Rubia, you said you wanted us to celebrate. Here I am.” She tries to slow her heartbeat down but with Zulema this close, and her lips almost pressed to her ear...it’s a difficult task. “Venga, Rubia.” Zulema tightens her hold and tries to get Maca to sway with her. She closes her eyes, tries to memorize the feeling of them swaying together, before gently pushing the arms off of her waist and stepping away. “Zulema, let’s go. You’ve had a bit to drink I think.” She turns to see Zulema swaying to the beat, eyes closed, a drunk smile on her lips. She’s never seen her like this before. She sighs and grabs Zulema’s hand, “Zule…” she feels the hand tear away from her grip. Green eyes snap open and stare her down, “what, now that I’m here dancing, you want to leave? Isn’t this you wanted? Or should I go find that man to dance with you again?” They both watch the other’s reaction. Macarena sighs in disappointment, “no, what I want now is for us to go.” Zulema nods, snapping out of it and they both walk to the bar. They grab their things and Macarena takes the keys from Zulema’s coat pocket. She knows she’s going to be the one driving. 

__________________________________

Much wasn’t spoken about that night at the club. They tiptoe around the event for days. Macarena tried to fill the awkward silence with new heist ideas (mostly taken from some show she’d seen about a group of misfits breaking into the Royal Mint of Spain), music, even stories from her most recent grocery run. Zulema, on the other hand, had been extra quiet lately, trying to spend most of her time on the roof or shooting targets while Maca folds the laundry. She thinks about how she must’ve ruined the blonde’s night. Stepping in between her and that man wasn’t her intention, but it was as if she was on autopilot. One minute she was laughing with the bartender about a failed robbery attempt at the club the week before, the next she was wrapping her arms around Maca’s waist...according to her hazy memory. The fact she felt a little guilty made her feel like she needed a shower. It wasn’t because she missed the feeling of Macarena pressed up against her, that’s for sure. She empties another clip into a sandbag with a poorly drawn target on the front of it before she drops her arm and shakes out the tense muscles. She squints her eyes and looks up to the sky, lets out a sigh, before putting the gun down on the table in front of her. Her ears perk up when she hears music coming from the caravan. She turns to see the windows wide open, as well as the front door. It’s another hot day in Spain and she shakes her head at their version of an air conditioner. She walks up to the caravan and sees Macarena humming along to a song on the radio while doing the dishes. Her hair is up in a messy bun again, her shorts barely peeking out from one of Zulema’s long t-shirts. Zulema tries to ignore the way her heart skips a beat at the sight. Suddenly, she’s really missing the club. She steps up the stairs quietly, watching as Macarena dances in place, foot tapping along with the rhythm. Zulema slowly steps up behind her and places her hands on the blonde’s waist. She feels her jump a little and chuckles. “You have to stop creeping up on me like that, mierda.” She feels Macarena’s muscles relax under her hands and she pulls her a little closer. “Keep dancing.”

Maca tries not to freeze at the words that fell out of Zulema’s mouth. She keeps scrubbing the plate in her hands before rinsing it off. She leans back into Zulema’s touch and continues to gently sway to the music. She grabs a cup and attempts to continue on with the chore as if nothing was happening. She feels her hands shaking slightly as Zulema slowly brings her face to the crook of her neck, gently pressing her nose against it. Macarena sighs and rinses the cup, placing it to the side to dry with the other dishes. The water keeps running as the blonde grips the edge of the sink. She pushes her hips back against Zulema’s and feels the other woman breathe out against her skin. Maca feels the sudden urge to touch her, so she grabs the nearest dish rag and dries her hands. She doesn’t turn around, she doesn’t want to face the reality of whatever was happening just yet. Instead, she places her hands on top of Zulema’s and gently tugs, pulling them fully around her waist. She presses herself a little harder against Zulema’s front and moves to the music even more. She can feel the warmth of Zulema’s hands through her shirt and attempts to ignore the feeling building inside her chest. She reaches a hand behind her and threads her fingers through Zulema’s dark raven hair. She feels Zulema press her face harder against her neck and they dance for a moment before Macarena turns around and faces Zulema. 

Zulema watches as Macarena stares at her. Feels her fingers in her hair, can see the way her chest rises and falls. It’s all too much. They are standing too close, closer than Zulema remembers them every standing so she pulls back. She grabs Macarena’s wrist and tugs her hand out of her hair. “Zulema,” Macarena whispers out and it only aggravates Zulema even more. “Qué?” Zulema tilts her chin up in a defensive manner. “You don’t have to pretend you didn’t like that.” Zulema laughs bitterly and steps even further away. “I didn’t.” Macarena stares at Zulema in disbelief. “Rubia, I was just trying to make up for the other night. You wanted to dance.” Macarena scoffs and steps closer to Zulema, pointing a finger, “Even you know that’s bullshit.” “Don’t interpret this as something it isn’t, Maca. That would just be sad.” If looks could kill, Zulema knows she’d be six feet under. “Fuck you, Zulema.” She watched as the other woman pushed past her and heard the door slam shut. A few moments later, a clip being emptied into the poor sandbag.

__________________________________

It’s still tense a few nights later. The two women haven’t spoken to one another about anything other than their newest heist in almost 48 hours. Maca avoiding Zulema, Zulema not wanting to make things worse. She knows that in order for their plan to be successful, the two women have to be civil with one another. Sure, Maca was being passive aggressive but after years of knowing the blonde woman, she knew to just let it go. They’ve just finished up dinner and it’s the first night they sit at the same table to do so. “Do I have to go over it once more?” Zulema looks down at the blueprint of the jewelry store a contact of hers had given her. “What more can you even say?” Maca disposes of their dishes in the sink and leans against the counter, “I know the plan by heart now. It’s all you’ve wanted to talk about recently.” Zulema pinches the bridge on her nose and closes her eyes, here we go again, she thinks. “Sí, what else would there be to talk about? We need this to work, Rubia. In order for that to happen, we have to be prepared for anything.” Macarena pushes herself off the counter and silently moves to the bedroom area of the caravan. Zulema hears her shuffle around, before the bathroom door closes shut. She sighs. “Por dios,” Zulema gets up from her chair, grabs a book to read, and heads up to the roof for some quiet time.

Maca steps out of the shower and begins drying herself off with a towel. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looks tired, and she knows it’s because of whatever cold war she and el elfo del puto infierno are currently locked in.Thinking of that nickname makes Maca giggle. She can’t remember who in the prison she heard it from, but she’s grateful for an accurate description. She just wants to listen to music, dance a little bit, drink even more and then sleep in the next morning. As she puts on her pyjamas, she decides, to hell with Zulema. She’s going to have a little party on her own. Macarena steps out of the bathroom and discards her things into their makeshift hamper, which is really just an oversized pillow case. Her bare feet carry her across the caravan and she notices that Zulema isn’t there anymore. She ignores the disappointment she feels blossoming in her, and pushes through it. She turns on the radio, hears the static fill the room as she tries to find a decent station. Once she finally decides on a channel, she pulls out a bottle of tequila and locates the nearest shot glass. She takes a shot, and then another, and one more just in case before she steps into the middle of the room. Her body feels warm and her head, a good kind of fuzzy. She’s content. She starts to dance, reaches her arms above her head, rolls her head from side to side slowly as if she were stretching. She dances for a few minutes until she hears the door open and the room fills with a cool breeze. She watches as Zulema walks in, a book tucked under her arm and a cigarette dangling from between her lips. She puts it out and tosses it in the trash, throws her book on the couch and just stands for a moment. Macarena is about to say something when Zulema stretches out her arms with a sarcastic smile and says, “I didn’t realize we were throwing a party.” Macarena clenches her jaw to keep herself from commenting, decides that another shot would be a better alternative. She hears Zulema move to the other side of the counter and sees her grab an apple before settling down on the couch. “Why do you always have something to say?” Macarena turns to question the other woman. Zulema shrugs, takes a bite out of her apple, “¿Qué pasa? Am I not allowed to make jokes?” Her nonchalance annoys the blonde. “Not when they suck the fun out of everything,” Macarena watches as Zulema opens her book and takes another bite of her apple. Without looking up Zulema adds, “go ahead and have fun. I’m not stopping you...regardless of how stupid I think it is to dance alone in a cramped caravan.” Macarena almost wants to start a fight but decides that she isn’t going to let Zulema ruin her night. She takes a deep breath and continues to dance, ignoring the slight sound of flipping pages under the loud music. 

__________________________________

She’s been at it for a while now, completely in her own little world. She can feel a little bit of sweat building at the small of her back. She feels much better, she realizes. She brushes her hands against her cotton shorts and unbuttons the yellow flannel she’s been wearing, only the top third button keeping her shirt closed. She rolls up the sleeves for good measure. She realizes she’s danced her way to the other end of the caravan, her back to the kitchen. After standing for a few moments to catch her breath, she jumps back into dancing. She turns and is surprised with what she finds. She catches Zulema watching her from across the caravan. She notes the way her eyes are trained on her swaying hips, her fingers clutching the apple she’s been eating, a little too hard. It clicks. She feels a rush of warmth spread throughout her body and the words fly out of her mouth before she has the chance to stop them. “You complain about my dancing because deep down you actually enjoy it.” Zulema’s eyes snap up to Maca’s face. It’s quiet, aside from the music coming from the radio they stole from a pawn shop months ago. The corner of Zulema’s mouth twitches once before she turns her head to stare out the window. “I don’t enjoy anything you do, Rubia.” Macarena scoffs. She slowly makes her way over to where Zulema is sitting, coming to a stop right in front of her. “That’s not true.” She wants to reach out, take the apple from Zulema’s hand and throw it somewhere far from them to emphasize just how over this she is. Instead her fingers curl roughly around Zulema’s jaw and turn her face to make sure their eyes are locked. “That’s not true and you know it.” A smirk growing on her lips. Zulema turns her face away quickly, effectively getting Macarena’s hand off her skin. “Don’t get too confident Maca, it isn’t a good look on you.” Zulema spits out, but Macarena can see a hint of something similar to desire swirling in her eyes. She shrugs her shoulders, stands up a little taller and continues to sway her body to the music. In the wild, an animal would never turn their back to a scorpion.....but here, Macarena knows she will never get stung. Her hands brush against the sky painted ceiling as she stretches her arms over her head. She looks up and watches as her fingertips trace the clouds, the music ringing in her ears. She feels her skin burning under Zulema’s gaze and it almost feels purifying. Looking over her shoulder she sees the raven haired woman watching her attentively, one hand gripping the edge of the couch, the apple forgotten in the other, with her jaw clenched. It does something for her. She begins to move sensually to the new song that has started playing. It’s something with a slow bass and a soft melody. She runs her fingers through her hair, parts her lips and lets out a sigh. She bends over at the waist before slowly rolling her body back up again, dragging her fingers up one of her legs and that’s when she hears it. A deep intake of breath, a shaky exhale. She looks over her shoulder again and sees that Zulema has spread her legs open a little more, leaned farther back into the couch trying to appear more casual. Macarena uses it to her advantage. She steps back and drops herself into Zulema’s lap. “What are you doing?” Zulema breathes out, trying and failing to sound annoyed. The blonde pushes herself further into the scorpion’s lap, turns her face to brush her lips against Zulema’s ear and whispers out, “proving a point”. They both gasp a little when Maca’s hips start to grind slowly to the music. Zulema’s hands roughly grip her waist, caught between wanting to push her away and pull her closer. The apple rolling away from the scene almost makes the blonde laugh. Maca presses her face against Zulema’s neck, both hands gripping the top of her thighs for leverage. Zulema doesn’t move, she puts on her best poker face and looks over Macarena’s shoulder. To the untrained eye, it seems like she really couldn’t care less about Macarena’s movements but to the blonde.....she knew it was a facade. She felt the way Zulema’s fingertips were pressing into her skin, the way her chest rose and fell against her back, her pulse racing a little too fast against her cheek. Macarena felt smug. She was the one making Cruz Del Sur’s baddest bitch react this way. “Macarena....stop messing around.” Zulema’s voice is a little scratchy, an octave lower than normal. Macarena stood up and Zulema felt relieved. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the couch, trying to regulate her breathing. Suddenly, she felt weight in her lap once more and her eyes snapped open. Straddled in her lap was the blonde. She could feel her palm tingling, itching to slap the smug grin off la rubia’s face. “I don’t take orders from you Zulema. Iguales o Nada, remember” She started to grind to the music once more and Zulema could feel her facade crumbling. She made it a point to keep her arms firmly by her sides, refusing to let the blonde know she was winning. Macarena didn’t know why she did it, but she ran her fingers up Zulema’s arm, the other hand gripped the back of the couch. Her fingers brushed up her arm, across her collarbones and up into her hair. “For someone who doesn’t enjoy anything I do.....I’m not hearing any complaints”. That annoys Zulema to no end. She has to gain control of this situation and fast. “No, but I do have some suggestions.” She feels Macarena falter. “Oh?” They lock eyes. In that moment they knew there was no coming back from whatever they did next. “For starters,” Zulema’s hands grip Maca’s waist and roughly pulls her closer, “you can go harder”. Macarena’s eyes shut hard and her head falls against Zulema’s shoulder. She grinds harder. Zulema’s hands help her keep her balance. She feels the blonde tug her hair harshly and she hisses at the pain. Zulema groans as she hears Macarena panting against her shoulder. She decides she needs to have her lips pressed against her, so she yanks her hair back and exposes the blonde’s neck. She kisses and nips at her pulse point and hears a moan fall from her lips. She never realized how much she wanted to hear that sound. It gets even better when she hears, “Zulema”. She looks at Macarena’s face and sees the blush tinting her cheeks.They’re both breathing heavily in a daze before Macarena drops her head back onto Zulema’s shoulder. “I knew you enjoyed my dancing.” Is muffled against her shirt, but she hears it just fine. “No, not the dancing,” Macarena leans back, stops her movements and looks at Zulema. It’s the first time she sees her this nervous. She waits, her grip in Zulema’s hair softens. “Not the dancing,” she repeats before rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin, “eres tú a quien disfruto.” It hits Maca in the middle of her chest. She looks down at Zulema’s lips, looks back up and sees the way Zulema’s eyes are wide and vulnerable as if waiting for a disastrous blow. She doesn’t hesitate before diving in. She restarts her movements in Zulema’s lap and feels the sigh against her lips before Zulema kisses her back. She doesn’t know how to reply to Zulema’s confession with words and she’s hoping she can gather her thoughts with their lips pressed together, deciding to finally tell the truth. She plants both hands in Zulema’s hair and angles her head to kiss Zulema deeper. After a few moments she pulls away, moving to kiss Zulema’s neck. She feels Zulema’s nails scratching at her abs lightly and it spurs her to speak. “Eres tú,” she looks up at Zulema and smiles, “eres tú, también”. Macarena suddenly feels weightless as Zulema silently pulls her against her and stands up, forcing the blonde to wrap her legs around her waist. “Ah! Zulema!” Macarena laughs out as the Egyptian led them to their makeshift bedroom. 

It’s the closest they’ve felt to freedom in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you for reading.


End file.
